You Can Fly
by usually mostly innocent
Summary: Wendy, back in London after the Neverland adventure, realizes that she can't live without Peter -- and takes drastic measures to ensure that she won't have to.


_Wendy gulped._

"_It . . . it's a bit higher than I'd expected," she murmured to herself, staring at the ground -- hundreds of feet away. Her hands white-knuckled the iron railing. A cool breeze combed through her hair and coaxed her toward the edge. She couldn't go much farther. Already, her body was pressed against the rail. The girl felt the cold metal through her thin nightgown and shivered. _

_Her eyes seemed frozen on the ground. The cobblestone streets were bustling with activity, even at night. Above her, the stars sparkled invitingly, like the eyes of a long-lost friend. She hadn't been able to look at the stars for the longest time. It had hurt too much; and, besides, it was nearly impossible to gaze at the night sky without her eyes straying to the second star on the right. _

_She could never, never, never look at that star again. Or so she had thought._

_It turned out that months without Peter Pan -- and even Neverland itself -- were unbearable. She could force herself not to _think_ of either of the above, but her dreams continued stubbornly to be about nothing else. That only made the ache in her heart worse. _

_So, finally, here she stood, on top of the Big Ben clock tower. Well, not _exactly_ on top, but as close as she could get (which would be above the clock itself, in the upper segment of the building, where the bell was housed). Wendy was planning to finally give in and fly to the second star on the right. _

_There was one tiny problem, however. _

_The problem was that she hadn't flown since that last time in Neverland. A small part of her worried that she had forgotten how. So, she had come up here, hoping that the longer fall would give her reflexes more time to recall how it was done. She was confident that she would remember._

_Mostly confident. Wendy pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and chewed it nervously. "Happy thoughts," she mumbled to herself, "just think happy thoughts." _And don't by any means think about how high up you are_, she added silently. _

_At last, she jerked her eyes off the brightly lit streets and into the sky. Once she was staring at her destination, her mind blanked of all thought except Neverland. And Peter. _

_Oh, Peter. _

_She placed a bare foot on the icy railing and climbed carefully up until she teetered on top of it. The carved metal bit into her feet painfully, but she ignored it. Keeping her eyes carefully trained on the second star to the right, she took a deep breath and stepped off. _

_Wendy plummeted instantly. She strained to think happy thoughts, but -- quite suddenly -- a memory of Peter shaking Tinkerbell over her head in the nursery at home flashed through her mind. "Fairy dust," she gasped, barely able to breathe as the air whooshed past her, "I forgot."_

_Her eyes shot to the ground, which rose rapidly up to meet her. Then, gasping, she squeezed them shut. In the moment before impact, she blinked her eyes open. _

"Peter," she gasped, sitting bolt upright in bed. The soft, reassuring glow of the nursery nightlight snapped her into reality. John growled out a loud snore. Michael rolled over and mumbled something about Nana in his sleep. Slightly slept like a rock, as usual. He was the only Lost Boy who shared the nursery with them. The rest all stayed in a room down the hall.

Wendy slipped out of bed and out of the room. She tip-toed down the hall, cracked the boys' door and peered inside. They all slept soundly, too, in their various strange positions. The twins -- who shared a bed -- snored in unison, their limbs crazily entangled. Nibbs hugged his bedpost in his sleep. She sighed and closed the door. The hinges squealed faintly; the small noise seemed loud in the silence of the sleeping house.

Apparently she was the only one having nightmares.

She padded noiselessly back down the hall and into the nursery. Once there, she paused for a moment in the center of the room, weighing her bed against the window seat. The vague fear of falling back to sleep and enduring more nightmares nudged her away from her bed, so she crawled up on the window seat.

The girl planted her cheek on her fist and stared wistfully out at the sky. A full moon shone softly into the room. Wendy looked at it briefly, but her eyes soon strayed to _that_ star. The one that was forever painfully precious to her.

Big Ben chimed midnight in the distance, and she sighed, remembering her dream. It hadn't _really_ been months since the Neverland adventure. In fact, it had only been a week. She had just barely convinced her parents to let her stay in the nursery until her next birthday (which was only two months away). Now she kept having nightmares about growing up and forgetting Peter Pan. When she was awake, she knew such a thing was impossible. But her dreams never adhered to fact.

Tonight's was new. The most common one recently had been that Peter had drunk Captain Hook's poison and died.

She shivered and huddled a little deeper into the cushion. Thinking about that was a bad idea.

If only she really could just jump out this window and fly back to Neverland. A longing swelled up in her, as great and urgent as the ocean tide. But with it came a horrible suspicion that Peter had already forgotten her. If she _were_ able to go back, arriving and seeing him not recognize her would be worse than growing up here -- worse even than him coming for her once it was too late.

She shuddered again. This time she couldn't even pretend to herself that it was because she was cold.

"Oh, Peter," she whispered to the second star to the right. "If only . . . "

Wendy's mind was suddenly so swamped with "if only's" that she didn't complete the thought. Which one would she use? She shook her head and huffed. _Why_ couldn't she simply forget all this and grow up like a good little girl?

The question was pointless. She knew the answer.

Michael rolled over again and muttered something else in his sleep -- unintelligible words this time. The Darling girl glanced at the clock. Fifteen past twelve. She really ought to get back to bed.

With a final pensive look at the stars, she turned and walked slowly to her bed. However, just as she was about to crawl under the covers, she stopped and ran back.

Wendy swung open the lock and flung up the sash. The fresh evening breeze rushed into the room, stroking her cheeks. She briefly shut her eyes to enjoy it; a smile blossomed across her face. Then she went back to her bed.

The girl pulled the covers up to her chin and snuggled into a position where she could see the stars through the now-open window. Eventually her eyes drifted closed -- this time she slept peacefully.

And a few hours later, a boy shaped shadow leaned over her sleeping form. Its owner whispered her name, and together they flew away into the sky.

Two children, headed together for the one place where they would never grow up.


End file.
